


The Mark

by VirtualNight



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ancestors, Branding, Fantrolls, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Original Character(s), Scarification, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 11:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VirtualNight/pseuds/VirtualNight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Islwyn is under no illusion that his relationship with Rhisiart is a healthy one, the things he is willing to do for the purpose of pleasing his partner is proof in itself of its dysfunction. However, he is determined to keep his lover happy even if it means enduring temporary pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mark

He wasn’t sure what had sparked the idea to do this, much less what made him want to actually go through with it. Such a practice would be seen as degrading in most cases, though that wasn’t something he really cared about. Pride was not something he could ever remember having, and dignity had long since left in favor of accommodating survival instinct. 

Turning back now served no purpose, as he had already put the work into fashioning the custom tool. A brand made of a heavy metal, carefully shaped into his partner’s symbol. All he had to do now was let heat up until it turned colors, mimicking the burning coals it sat on, and then choose where to put it. There was little doubt in his mind that the other troll would like it, regardless of how he would initially react. His partner would admire it, though the other had never said out loud that he wished to own him it was obvious. Obvious in the way he hadn’t denied being his owner but protested him being referred to as an object, and the way he never allowed anyone close and selfishly invaded personal space the shorter troll so greatly valued. It was also in his gaze, that smoldering behind it as his eyes refused to miss an inch of his body, almost demanding to be witness to every part of him. No, even if he wanted to fake displeasure it would be laughably transparent. 

Decision made and brand bright red, he picked it up and pressed it into his skin without hesitation. The hiss of the symbol scorching his body was the only sound, his jaw stiff as he held back a gasp. Iron clattering to the floor, he tried not to move. It was a poor spot to choose if avoiding pain during the healing process had been his goal. Releasing his held breath, he closed his eyes to help him focus on something else. He knew disinfecting it would be another wave of pain to endure.

Most would have called it a horrible mistake, an insult to their relationship. He didn’t see it that way though. To him it was worth witnessing the moment his partner discovered it, and worth the times he knew it would be admired. Oh yes, feeding his ego was definitely worth it.

\-----

He had only asked about the bandages once. The way he had worded it sent a tingle of anticipation down Islwyn’s spine: “who injured you”.

As if he was going to do away with anyone who would lay hands upon his matesprit. As if they wouldn't already be dead. However, that was not the case, and the olive-blood was not one to lie. He replied that it was no other trolls doing aside from his own. His counterpart had accepted that without more questions.

Three and a half weeks passed before he visited again. Though Islwyn wasn’t concerned with where he had been, he was growing more eager to reveal his new mark. Fresh bandages were in place simply as a precaution, but the wound had healed nicely, leaving a clean, dark symbol on his skin just below his chest.

There was something about it that was sort of exciting. Letting Rhisiart believe he had conquered him, succeeded in becoming the only troll able to control him. How pleased he would be with himself over such submission from the olive-blood. As he traced his fingers over it through his shirt absent-mindedly he could feel his heart flutter slightly.  
Of course, he was only ever compliant because it was what his partner wanted. The other thing he wanted…well he would have to work harder for that. Islwyn had always had a distaste for forced emotion, and he was fairly certain the blue-blood would not care for it much either.

There was little conversation between them, Rhisiart seeming to be more focused on his ledger than usual, scribbling notes down between glances at his map. Such behavior was typically a result of an unsuccessful hunt, either his target had escaped or was not yet found. Either way Islwyn knew they would not be able to avoid The Cerberus for long. His frustration would undoubtedly find its way into how he treated his partner. He was never abusive, but neither was he gentle.

The olive-blood decided to retire early, slipping away from the brightness of the front of his hive to the comfort of his bedroom. He removed each article of clothing slowly, folding them neatly as he set them aside. Undressing was therapeutic somehow. The shedding of the nights burdens to try and get some rest. It had changed a bit since becoming Rhisiart’s matesprit however. When he was gone he couldn’t help but imagine him watching, and when he was there he was almost certainly watching. Modesty was not something Islwyn ever cared about. There was nothing humiliating about being naked in front of others, at least not to him. But when his matesprit watched him remove his clothing it was different. Even though the olive-blood knew the other’s eyes could only focus on one part of him at a time, it always felt like he could see every inch of him, regardless of his point of view. That apparent scrutiny had excited him in a way, his skin prickling when he saw the twitching in Rhisiart’s fingers, so eager to touch. 

But tonight it was merely his imagination, his matesprit still occupied in the other room. He left the bandages in place just in case he actually fell asleep before the other joined him. He doubted he would. One dim light cast shadows over the floor and walls, and as he lay in bed they seemed to move more than he thought they should. He watched them for a while, but his lack of sleep the previous days encouraged them to take on forms he was certain they shouldn’t. Closing his eyes, Islwyn listened to the sounds of his hive and the forest surrounding it. The insides of his eyelids showed him Rhisiart, a triumphant smirk on his face and eyes almost glowing with his pride. It was an expression the he had seen before, when he had done things that were particularly impressive. Bragging rights. That was all it was to the blue-blood. Another reason added to the list of things that made him a valuable partner.

He almost thought he had started to drift off into a dream when he heard Rhisiart’s voice, but movement on the bed prompted him to open his eyes. The taller troll leaned over him, his weight supported by hands on either side of Islwyn’s shoulders. It took a moment for him to realize he was being regarded expectantly, and finally he processed that Rhisiart had asked him if he was ill. It wasn’t long after he shook his head to indicate a ‘no’ that the other’s lips were on his neck.

 

Covers were pulled away, a moment of hesitation from the blue-blood upon seeing the bandages again. He didn’t have to speak for Islwyn to know what he was thinking. Taking advantage of the moment, he used one of his knives to cut them away, those deep blue eyes locked on him as he revealed the mark. Rhisiart’s surprise was only betrayed by a slight movement of his eyebrows, but the grin that followed was all the olive-blood needed to know he had been right. Unspoken praise of his handiwork was reflected in the almost reverent way his partner caressed the curving lines on his skin. If he was a fool he would think it acknowledgment of his devotion, but the egotism was clear in the possessiveness of the kisses that followed, only placed in just the right spots to encourage his arousal. Islwyn couldn’t bring himself to care much about the other’s selfish motivations though. The way Rhisiart kept his hands or his eyes on that mark for the rest of the night and well into the day was satisfaction enough for him.


End file.
